Dead Hunger | Book 10 | The Remnants

by Shelman, Eric A.

  “Good enough,” said Punch. “Gloves are a minor inconvenience to avoid eating my friends.”

  “We feel the same!” said Charlie. “Okay, let’s load this food processor.”

  They stuffed the receptacle as full as they could, and Charlie put the lid on and pushed the button. It spun and chopped, and seconds later it was a green, oily mess inside the container.

  “Okay, into the stainless reactor. It’s already heating. Rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat.”

  They continued the process until they had gone through all twenty garbage bags. Since the reactor wasn’t large enough to begin the distilling process for all of it, they stored it in large, glass containers with rubber clamp lids.

  “This will make approximately one gallon, which should protect the entire town in the proper dilution,” said Hemp.

  “Need us to get more?”

  “Not for now,” said Hemp. “Let’s see what information Max, Isis, Flex and Gem come back with. Then we’ll plan further.”

  “Okay. I was gonna go hunting tonight. You got any extra WAT-5?”

  “Yes, but don’t go alone,” said Hemp.

  “I’ll go!” said Charlie. “You using your crossbow?”

  “Not exactly where I was going with that,” said Hemp.

  Punch answered Charlie’s question: “I wasn’t going to use my bow, but with the possibility of zombies around again, that’s not a bad idea.”

  “Okay, it’s a date. Hemp, honey, you get jealous I won’t share any of my kill with you.”

  “I hereby voice my concerns, but I’m first in line to trust a United States Marine,” said Hemp. “Take a radio. What are you hunting?”

  “Deer, maybe wild hogs. Hunting deer after dark used to be against Georgia law, but with the abundance of them out there these days, I don’t think we’ll put much of a dent in their population.”

  *****

  The foursome, backpacks, rifles, and bows in tow, trudged south down River Bridge Trail. Where it took a sharp turn to the east, Isis stopped. “We’ll cross through here,” she said, pointing to the west. “It’s more overgrown, but the hot springs are supposed to be between here and Highway 384.”

  “I can smell the sulfur,” said Max.

  “Conversation to a minimum as we get closer,” said Flex.

  They moved into the tall trees, thick with brush that filled in the gaps between them. Small animal trails led them along narrow ridges with steep drop-offs, and with the heavy leaves and pine needles obscuring the rest of the forest floor, it was good they were there.

  After walking about fifteen minutes, sometimes using smaller trees as handholds to keep from sliding down the occasional areas where the dirt was breaking away, Gem said, “Stop.”

  Nobody asked why. They turned to see her kneeling down. She picked something up from the ground.

  It was a foot. The skin, thick, dead, and tanned like leather, clung to it, holding the bones together.

  “Okay, you can drop that now,” said Flex.

  “The bottoms are worn,” said Gem, turning it over. “This was attached to someone who used it after they died.”

  “Then we’re heading in the right direction,” said Isis. “Keep an eye out for a more well-worn trail, wider than this.”

  Mini binoculars were removed from packs, and everyone began scanning in different directions.

  “There,” said Flex. “I see a good clearing right there, and it looks like it runs in the right direction.”

  It was about thirty yards to their north, which was uphill all the way. Isis took the lead. She had read up on mountain climbing, but everything she learned would not be necessary now; only the basics.

  She eyed a tree approximately fifteen feet above her. “Here, Max. Hold my bag.”

  Max slung his rifle and took the bag, holding it open. She reached in, withdrawing a thick bundle of nylon rope with a type of grappling hook attached to one end.

  “Okay, if I have as much success as I did practicing with this thing, we should make short work of this.”

  “Everyone stand clear,” said Flex. They all moved up and down the trail a minimum of ten feet.

  Isis, keeping her eye on the small, solid tree, swung the rope and hook over her head. With her keen eye and sense of timing, she released the hook. The curvature of her toss caused the rope to hit the tree about three feet back from the hook, which wrapped around it twice as Isis yanked it hard, cinching the hook.

  “Jesus, first try!” said Gem. “That’s great, Is–”

  “Shh,” interrupted Isis, her eyes blazing as she jerked her head toward Gem.

  “Sorry,” Gem said, sucking air between her teeth.

  “It looks strong enough, but let Flex go first. He’s the heaviest,” said Isis. “You good?”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s not too steep. Wish me luck.”

  They all moved back except Gem, who gave Flex’s rear end a push as he took his first two steps up the semi-steep incline.

  “Good footholds here,” said Flex, his voice low. “Solid earth.”

  He moved the fifteen feet or so relatively easily, reaching the top. Nodding, he waved the next person up, which was Gem.

  As she climbed, he kept one hand on the rope so that if it began to slip, he could grip it while positioned behind the tree. It held, and she made it up in under a minute.

  As the others climbed up, Gem scanned the area where Flex had spotted the clearing. “Oh, hell,” she muttered. “Zombie Highway.”

  “It’s so narrow it’s more like Zombie Road,” said Isis, reaching the top in half the time it took Gem. Together, they looked at the tufts of hair, clothing, shoes, and other telltale evidence of a frequently used zombie path.

  Max was there, and as Flex went to undo the rope, Isis said, “No, Uncle Flex. Leave it. We’ll need it to get back down.”

  “No other way out?” asked Flex.

  “Not that I saw. If we find something later, we can sacrifice the rope. The zombies don’t use climbing equipment, and that’s clearly their trail there. We won’t need it from here on out.”

  “We’ve got our answer,” said Gem. “They’re here.”

  “I got mixed feelings about that,” said Flex. “What now?”

  “Now we find them and watch. See if we can isolate a Red-Eye for my dad,” said Max.

  “Watch for burrows,” said Isis. “We don’t even know if the hot springs here are still viable. They might have dried up years ago, but that might not change the gas level seeping from the ground.”

  It was a good point and one that Flex had not considered. To let down their guard due to a lack of the actual springs could lead to their demise.

  After another five minutes Isis stopped and held up her hand. Turning her head, she whispered, “Don’t move. Turn your heads slowly to the left. Look for blue.”

  At first, Flex didn’t know what she meant, but when he followed her instructions, he saw her. The female stood out from the others merely because Flex had been told to seek that color.

  Once he saw her, he saw dozens more. As his eyes continued to move out from the central point where she was standing, dozens turned into hundreds.

  The humidity in the woods had increased a hundredfold. These hot springs, while not as deep as those south of Athens, were steaming and viable.

  Blue dress had not spotted them. Her long, silky hair hung straight down as her eyes stared toward the water, which only came to her knees.

  Isis waved everybody back up the trail for 30 yards, then knelt down. Whispering, she said, “She would be a prime capture,” said Isis. “Her hair tells us she’s a Red-Eye. The question is, how to take her?”

  “While they’re all just standing the fuck around, can’t we just set these woods on fire?” asked Gem. “Everything is dry. These woods would go up like a loaded tinderbox.”

  “Charlie would’ve slapped your ass for that comment,” said Flex. “Hemp wants a Red-Eye.”

  “And where is she going to rid
e in the car?” asked Gem.

  “I have that part handled I think,” said Isis. “I have an idea. Now, how to get her.” She looked at Max and smiled. “You … love me, right?”

  “As much as a sixteen-year-old boy can love a seventeen-year-old girl,” said Max, with a wink.

  “That’s BS and you know it,” said Flex. “You’ve been older than me since you turned eight. Get to it. What’s your idea?”

  From her large, tactical backpack, Isis pulled out a roll of what appeared to be clear plastic. On each end were blue handles. She passed it to Max, who inspected it. “What’s this?”

  “Wrap that Red-Eye up to go, Maxy.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “So, I can still hide things from you. I was thinking about this the whole way here.”

  “Well, aren’t you good,” said Max. “So, what am I supposed to do with this?”

  “That’s the wrap they use to secure pallet loads of goods. They stack it, then they wrap it to keep it secure.”

  Max looked again at the roll. “So what – you want me to wrap her in this?”

  “It’s not a bad idea,” said Flex. “I did something similar with my sister Jamie, only it wasn’t as easy because it was a pool cover. That bubble wrap-type stuff.”

  “So, she’s supposed to stand there while I run around her and wrap her in this?”

  “I’m gonna have to help,” said Flex.

  “Flex, no,” said Gem. “How can you help him?”

  “Well, for one, I can slink through the water with him and keep her distracted or immobilized while he wraps her up.”

  “Distracted or immobilized? That sounds like two different plans, neither of which has been fleshed out yet.”

  “Interesting choice of words,” said Isis. “But she’s right. I have a better idea. Gem, how accurate are you with that crossbow?”

  “From twenty yards or so, pretty accurate. Why?”

  They discussed it, and Gem nodded. “I think I can pull that off. If I hit bone, it might not work out.”

  “It’s more meat than bone. Take your time. Boys, you should get ready to push off. She hasn’t moved.”

  They looked out onto the still water. Not a ripple came from any of the standing zombies.

  “We’re gonna be like two balls dropping into a Pachinko game,” said Flex. “Better not bump any of her followers on the way in.”

  “You still need to go?” asked Gem.

  “They can pass the roll off rather than run around her,” said Isis. “It will be faster and safer that way.”

  “Let’s recon first to see if there are other Red-Eyes,” said Max. “We don’t need a tag-team match on the other side.”

  *****

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jim Cole had everything ready to go; the 2009 Volkswagen Golf diesel had been brand new when the apocalypse struck and had been garaged since he found it in 2024. It had been up on blocks at a home in Wichita, Kansas.

  He’d gone there to scavenge for canned food and both mechanic and gardening tools. They were always looking for weapons at that time, as the zombie wars were still expanding all across the state and the nation.

  In the garage, the car sat on jack stands, covered with a canvas tarp that appeared to still be in good condition. But when Jim went to unveil the hidden vehicle beneath, it pulled apart in his hands. Still, it had protected the car well until Jim disturbed it.

  The tires had been sitting off the ground in racks in the back of the garage, and inspecting the vehicle, Jim saw all four wheels had just gotten new brakes and calipers when the shit hit the fan. The hood was up, and the car had also gotten a new master cylinder; the boxes containing the old brake parts sat on top of a large, rolling Snap-On Tools mechanic’s toolbox.

  Jackpot. It had been his permanent ride since. Perky and fuel-efficient, with a big enough back seat to hold weapons and supplies. Ideal for a 1,100-mile journey.

  Right after finding it and babying it back to life, he had procured a heavy-duty winch from PowerSports, a store that sold UTV and ATV parts and accessories.

  He also customized a mini hydraulic pump and some retractable feet that would angle forward and press against the earth like two giant’s boots, allowing the winch to pull heavy things as needed. He called them his tug-o-war braces. It wasn’t necessary when pulling himself out of ditches and the like, but when it came in handy, it really came in handy.

  A knock came on the door. Jim looked at his watch. Nelson’s grandfather was always on time. He was never early, but he was never late. A respectful man.

  Jim opened the door. “Dr. Scofield, I can set my watch by you.”

  “Left my bag over by your car. We taking the VW?”

  “Heck yeah,” said Jim. “I didn’t do all that work on it to take something shittier.”

  “Brought a little weed with me,” said Jim. “Helps with the arthritis and sleepin’. You okay with that?”

  “Enough to share?”

  “Plenty.”

  Jim nodded. “Good then. I’m all loaded up. You bring your gun?”

  “Just a pea shooter these days,” said Scofield. “I use a .22 pistol. The recoil on bigger guns just hurts my bones.”

  “It’s about placement anyway,” said Cole. “You good to go?”

  “Real good,” said Scofield. “And ready to hit the road. You can fill me in on anything else I need to know once we’re on the highway. You figurin’ three, four days?”

  “That’s just around 330 miles a day,” said Jim. “It’s doable, but I’m not going to drive myself nuts if we only do 200 in a day.”

  “Good. I brought a load of jerky,” said Scofield. “Filled a bunch of water bottles from the stream too, so we should be good for the trip with whatever you have.”

  “You already say your goodbyes?”

  “I did. Still can’t believe I’m goin’.”

  “Hey, it’s only a few days’ trip. You can always come back.”

  “I don’t count beyond today anymore,” said Scofield. “Considerin’ what’s gone on in this world, I’m lucky to have made it this many years.”

  They walked out and Scofield got in the passenger’s seat and put it all the way back with a pull of the bar between his feet. Cole got in the driver’s seat and fired the engine.

  Turning onto the main road, he saw the crews putting the wall back up. There was a pretty good team working on it, and since Kingman had grown by around 80 men, women, and kids since the end of the first apocalypse, they had a good labor force.

  With a double-toot of the horn, they left town and worked their way to Highway 400. It was two lanes, and for the last several years, had been cleared to the point it was entirely passable.

  Once they reached their turn-off, they’d transition to I-60, which would get them most of the rest of the way.

  After about five miles, Scofield looked over at Jim Cole. He stretched his arm across the back of Jim’s seat and said, “I’m about ready for a doobie. How about you?”

  “I never knew where Nelson got it.”

  Jim Scofield laughed. “Taught that boy everything he knows.”

  *****

  With everyone awake and under the protection of WAT-5, Flex Sheridan and Max Chatsworth made their way to the edge of the swamp. Isis had identified a good tree with low branches she could climb and have a good view of the Red-Eye in their sights.

  Gem took up a position directly in line with the Red-Eye’s right side. She was twenty yards from the creature, crouched in the water with her bow ready.

  Before settling into position and choosing their directions of observation and potential attack, the group had moved slowly around the perimeter of the body of water, which was nowhere near as large as the hot springs pools south of the mountainous regions of Georgia. This area was truly an anomaly in the northern part of the state.

  Max, be careful, Isis thought. Immersed as they were in the earth gas, their psychic powers increased. She and Max ha
d again discovered – and shut down – the trigger switch in their subconscious brains controlling the siren call.

  She hoped it hadn’t been too late. Or that the Red-Eyes did not recognize the call for what it was, going on alert. In the early days, the call was interpreted by the once-pregnant women as their dead children calling to them; it was irresistible.

  When they arrived to find edible humanity, it was battle after battle as the Red-Eyes and their hordes moved in like waves crashing in from the ocean.

  The process of turning the siren call off was like riding a bicycle or playing a musical instrument. Even if you didn’t possess either for a long time, if somebody presented you with one, you would know exactly what to do with it – even if you hadn’t thought of it in years.

  “Be careful, Flexy,” whispered Gem. She watched them move through the water so slowly there was hardly a ripple.

  They drew to within twelve feet of the silken-haired monster and separated. Max still held the roll of plastic pallet wrap, and Flex kept his silenced Walther PPK .22LR pistol in his right hand, held above the water line.

  Gem held her breath as they moved to each side of her. She stood in the water, which was only knee deep. Crouching low, only Flex’s upper back, shoulders and arms were visible above, and because Max was smaller than Flex, only his shoulders were visible.

  Gem turned to look at Isis, who was already returning her gaze. Isis nodded.

  Now, Max. Motion for Flex to move in front of her.

  Her instructions received, Gem and Isis watched as Max pointed at Flex with one hand. Flex slid around to position himself in front of the Red-Eye.

  There were at least 150 creatures standing in what appeared to be a dormant state, both in and around the perimeter of the warm pond. They had identified three Red-Eyes, but this one was the most isolated. The other two had their backs to her.

  During the drive up to Demorest, Isis had told them she and Max had no idea of the level of communication between the Red-Eyes. She knew they could once call to one another and find other hordes, but whether they could alert to danger, nobody knew.